


Subtlety

by Justagirlwithapen



Series: Soulmate AU - Importants object tats with various ships and fandoms [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 22:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12691155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justagirlwithapen/pseuds/Justagirlwithapen
Summary: Dean’s tattoo was a pair of wings. Sometimes, he would look at the edges of them in the mirror, trying to figure out what they heck that meant. Was he meant to end up with a religious freak? Or some fantasy nut? I mean, they weren’t bird wings. They were angel wings.





	Subtlety

**Author's Note:**

> Another long overdue installation to my multi fandom multi ship soulmate au. Lemme know if there's any mistakes, it's been a while since I could watch the show. Also, comment or let me know if there's a ship you want me to do. Enjoy :]

Dean and his brother Sam were very different people, but they did have one thing in common: they were both born with their soul tat already present. Sam’s was small, easy to hide, to cover. Dean’s was huge, encompassing his back, the edges peeking over his shoulders, gracing his sides ending slightly below the base of his spine. Where Sam’s was simple, tidy, basic, Dean’s was extravagant and detailed and huge. If Dean was being honest, his tattoo scared him a bit. What person, what soulmate, would love something that much that it would come across so detailed, so exactly rendered. 

Dean’s tattoo was a pair of wings. Sometimes, he would look at the edges of them in the mirror, trying to figure out what they heck that meant. Was he meant to end up with a religious freak? Or some fantasy nut? I mean, they weren’t bird wings. They were angel wings. Then, he and Sam started researching angels, and in a warehouse, Castiel appeared in a rumpled trench coat and tie, the shadows of a set of wings behind him, sparks literally flying. Dean felt his pulse speed up and his mouth go dry. A million thoughts ran through his head, pondering if this angel was his soulmate, if his soulmate was really a guy of all things. Later, Sam showed that no matter what, no matter if Dean was to be with a guy or an angel or a male angel, he wouldn’t care. Sam wasn’t like their father. It would be okay.

 

Castiel didn’t think it was possible for angels and other beings like him to get soul marks. Yet, here he was, staring at a car that appeared on the pulse of his wrist. He found it very odd. Even odder was when his brother Gabriel got one four years later. They were some of the only ones in heaven with one. Thirty years after Gabriel’s appeared, Castiel was human and understanding what that truly meant. He learned, through observation of the Winchester brothers, that you do not show your soul marks to people, so when he wasn’t wearing a long sleeve with tight cuffs, he was wearing the thick leather bracelet that Dean had given him a few years back. He barely paid attention his mark (or, as Dean referred to them, his tat) anymore. Until Cas realized he had feelings for Dean, understood what that was, and finally figured out that the car on his wrist was Dean’s car - a 1967 Chevy Impala. Cas was very puzzled on what to do next. He decided to go for subtlety, or at least, his form of it. One day Cas wore a short sleeve, didn’t wear the bracelet, and with the tattooed arm he asks Dean (when they were alone) to hand him something. Dean flicks his gaze over, then openly stares at Castiel’s wrist. He stands and stares at it, then pulls his shirt up, revealing the wings sprawling across his back.   
Sam comes back to Dean’s workshed to find his big brother and the angel turned human Dean’s been mooning over for literal years, making out against a table. Sam hollers ‘Get a room!’ before leaving the bags he had gotten inside the door frame and going. Sam smiles. His brother is happy. 

 

The changes between Sam and Dean, and Dean and Cas, and Cas and Sam, and them and other people, are subtle, but there. Cas sits shotgun most times these days, Dean driving with one hand firmly on the steering wheel, the other in Cas’s. The ex angel and current hunter hold hands a lot, Sam notices. Underneath the table of diners and dives. After a fight with some baddie. When one’s being patched up. Walking to or from someplace. During research or when they think no one’s looking. When they’re too caught up to care if someone sees. Sam never knew his brother could be like this; romantic, sweet and kind, caring. He never thought Dean could be in a longterm relationship, never knew Dean in anything else then one night stands or week long hookups. Never thought Dean would be holding hands, and kissing cheeks or pecking on lips, walking with his arm slung over a loved ones shoulders or around their waist. Yet here Dean was, doing all those things. Here Dean was, looking at Cas like Cas was the world and the stars and the heavens above. Listening with rapture as Cas talked about whatever peculiarity caught his interest, from bees to milkshakes. There Dean was, meeting Sam and Cas at a bar or club, brushing across the women flirting with him, ignoring their advances and come hither looks from across the dance floor, eyes only on Cas. Dean interjecting when another gal or guy hit on Cas, protective yet knowing when Cas wanted to or could fight his own fights. Wanting to protect Cas, yet understanding Cas could handle himself. When Sam and Dean and Cas stayed in those crummy motels, sometimes they stuck with the same old of two doubles, this time with Cas and Dean together, curled around each other. Sometimes Dean would kick Sam out for a few hours or a night, or they’d get two rooms or something of the sort. 

Other things changed too. Dean smiled more, drank less, slept longer hours. He made less bawdy jokes, picked less fights. He started imagining a different life, a life after, a life that was peaceful. A house somewhere quiet and calm, a picket fence, garden maybe. Somewhere just him and Cas, maybe a guest room if Sammy wanted to stay over. A few beers in the fridge, that ice cream Cas liked in the freezer, Sammy’s favorite snacks in the cabinet. Sometimes Dean thought of finding an honest line of work, of settling down. He scolded himself for wishful dreaming, never mentioning it to anyone, but kept a flashdrive on his key chain with potential homes and jobs, potential futures (also on this flashdrive was pictures of family, of Cas and Sam and Bobby, of Ellen and Joe, even a few of Lisa and Ben and Chuck). Sam knows, but doesn’t say anything or do anything about it, other than a few comments of how nice the area is, or the good location of a house they pass. Sam doesn’t say anything when he walks in on his brother looking at engagement rings, just pretends he was reading whatever research is in hand instead. 

They don’t live a happy life. They fight ghosts and vampires and monsters and demons. They hunt, they kill, they lie they steal. All in the name of some greater good, all in the name of preventing an apocalypse they’ve nearly started and stopped a dozen times over. They have bruises and scars visible and not, have mended bones and aches and pains. They sleep with a gun under the pillow, keep flasks of holy water in their pockets. Line entrances with salt. They don’t live a safe or happy life. No one would look at them and think, I want to live like that. No one would listen in on their conversations when they believe no one else’s looking and think that they are a normal family. They are broken and mended, burdens heavy on their shoulders, grey hairs sprouting early and wrinkles forming faster, nightmares and fear keeping their sleep light, living off of junk food and beer. But, even though this is the life they live, the life Sam and Dean and Cas and so many others live, Sam can say in all honestly, that his brother is happy, truly happy, and maybe for the first time in a long time.


End file.
